Virginia Henley (42 page)

“I’d like to ride. Which one would be best?” she asked Terry. He cast her an amused glance. Poor Patrick didn’t stand a chance against this little witch.

“Most of the mares are in foal. You can take Lady Jane here; I don’t think she caught the last time I put her to stud. I’ll saddle her up for you, but don’t go too far. I don’t want to get stuck with Patrick.”

“I’ll watch for him, but remember I expect your company at dinner. I want you to stick like glue even if he tries to get rid of you!” she admonished. She returned from her ride feeling more alive than she had in years. The breeze had brought the roses into her cheeks, and her hair billowed about her shoulders in wild disarray. She trotted along the fence of the paddock. The horse inside snorted wildly and reared into the air. This sleek, black stallion was Terry’s pride and joy and there obviously was something wrong. She dismounted quickly and looped the reins over her arm. The stallion’s eyes rolled wildly and his scream rent the air. She ran toward the gate and lifted the wood.

“Kitty, no!” a voice thundered. Patrick’s hand shot past her and slammed the wood home in the gate. A stableman ran up to them and took away the horse that Kitty had been riding. She looked up at Patrick in confusion. “The stallion wanted to mount the mare. He would have trampled anything that stood in his way.”

Terry came running. “Is she all right? By God, Patrick, I’d no idea she was so ignorant.”

The moment of danger was forgotten as Patrick drank in the sight of her.

Terry hid a smile as he wondered how many seconds would elapse before Patrick would have his hands on her.

“Welcome to Windrush,” breathed Kitty.

The cooling breeze rustled her silk shirt, and her nipples stood out in clear relief. Patrick’s hand stole to her waist and his fingers immediately discerned that she was indeed naked beneath the silk. Terry turned half away, pretending to be unaware of the byplay that was going on.

Kitty easily slipped out of Patrick’s grasp and took Terry’s arm. “Let’s take Patrick up to the house and get him settled.”

Patrick said quickly. “We’re taking him away from his work, Kitty.”

“Nonsense! He’s never too busy to welcome a guest,” she assured him.

Patrick gave Terry a warning glance, but Terry shrugged helplessly.

“Windrush will steal your heart; you’ll never want to leave. Don’t you love it?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” he said, never taking his eyes from her.

“Shall I ring for some tea?” she asked brightly as they entered the house.

The look of dismay that came over the men’s faces at the thought of sitting through afternoon tea filled her with amusement.

“How silly of me,” she relented. “You’d probably much rather have a drink up in your room.”

His eyes burned into hers until she lowered her lashes.

“Mr. Burke,” Kitty called out to the hovering servant, “please take Mr. O’Reilly’s bags up to his room.”

Terry watched her lead Patrick on and hoped she realized
Patrick wasn’t one to follow, but would seize command at the first opportunity. Mr. Burke led the procession, and Kitty followed. Patrick, coming up behind her on the staircase, could control his actions no longer. He reached out and caressed her bottom.

She remonstrated, “You trespass, sir!”

“Then lead us not into temptation,” he said irreverently.

Mr. Burke set the bags down and tended the fire. Kitty splashed brandy into a glass and handed it to Patrick. He sipped it impatiently, waiting for the servant to leave, while the heat of his eyes roamed over her figure and came to rest hungrily on her mouth. The servant turned from the fire to leave.

Quickly Kitty said, “Wait, Mr. Burke, I’ll come with you. I must see about dinner.”

“Dinner?” Patrick said blankly.

“Of course, dinner,” said Kitty innocently. “You didn’t think you’d retired for the night, did you?”

Mr. Burke went through the door, but it was swiftly closed before Kitty could follow him. Patrick’s body came full up against hers as he flattened her against the door. His voice came raggedly, “Oh, God, don’t play games with me.” His mouth came down on hers in a heated, crushing demand. The ache of passion so long denied rose up in her until she was ready to yield to him.

Then suddenly Mr. Burke was back at the door. “I brought hot water for your bath, sir.”

“Damn,” swore Patrick angrily.

She slipped from his embrace. “The hot water will ease away your stiffness,” she said outrageously.

He leaned against the closed door in agony. The craving hunger gnawed at the pit of his belly. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Would he never be able to master the physical effect she always provoked in him?

*   *   *

The dinner was a simple affair suited to a man’s taste. The broiled beefsteak and vegetables were followed by a fruit pie and cream. If Patrick had been questioned about it, he could not have recalled what he had eaten. All he tasted was Kitty.

They dined at a small table in a cozy room off the main dining room. She poured both men a brandy after the meal and when Patrick took out a long, slim cheroot, she bent toward him intimately to light it. His fingers covered hers to steady the light, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that took her breath away. Terry nudged her under the table. She was enjoying this small cruelty she was inflicting on them both. She yawned delicately.

“I’m sure Patrick must have a thousand questions he wants to ask you about Windrush, Terry, so I’ll leave you to your brandy and cigars.” Terry looked angry enough to kill, and Patrick’s brow lowered dangerously.

“I’ll say good night.” She arose. “Oh, Patrick, I’m in the room next to yours if there’s anything you desire.”

He choked on the brandy. She moved swiftly, knowing it would be only minutes before each sought an excuse to retire. She closed the long drapes over the windows and poked the fire until it blazed high. By the time she hung her clothes in the wardrobe, she could hear Patrick moving about in his room. She took out the sheer nightgown and slipped it over her head. Her pulse raced madly as she heard Patrick’s footsteps come to the connecting door. She brushed out her hair and in a few minutes she heard him come again to the door. This time he turned the knob. Silence. She shivered at the thought of his touch.

“Kitten,” he called softly through the door. She held her breath. Her eyes widened as she realized this was the room she’d dreamed of long ago. Now she knew why she was
goading him into breaking down the door. She wanted him to fulfill all her dreams and fantasies.

The door gave way under a resounding crash. He was prepared to do battle, but his anger melted away like snow in summer as the impact of her lithe body assaulted his senses. As he advanced into the room the fire in his blood throbbed along his veins, and his eyes blazed as they noted that the nightgown had flower petals embroidered on the breasts, and the centers of the flowers were her pink nipples, provocatively exposed.

He crushed her in his embrace, held her away to gaze down at her in wonder, then took her inside his robe. The shock of his lean, hard, naked body against hers made her cry out. Her legs trembled beneath her. As she leaned against him for support, he gathered her up and took her to the bed. Love words tumbled from his lips and he was astounded to discover she must have hungered for him every bit as much as he had hungered for her. Her response was eager and hot. She obeyed his demands implicitly, but he was delighted when she made demands of her own. Her cries shattered the stillness of the house as he entered her, swollen to the full with passion. Beginning slowly, his movements built in a silken rhythm that carried them both higher and higher in pleasure until Kitty thought she could bear it no longer. She bit his shoulder and he groaned aloud, but he hadn’t even felt her bites. He shuddered as a crescendo exploded, and then he felt her implosion draw the nectar of love from his shaft.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” he whispered in awe.

Her face was wet with tears. Her release had been so great, a sob shuddered through her whole body.

“My God, we can’t go on like this, Kitty. It’s killing us both. You’ve got to leave him. I won’t live without you any longer.”

“Oh, please, darling, our time is so short, so precious, we mustn’t waste it with angry words.”

“I’ll leave it for now, but it’s something you are going to have to face up to,” he said with finality.

Just before dawn, Patrick stirred. He marveled at finding his love in his arms. He looked his fill at the lovely face. Black crescent lashes lay still on her cheeks, her hair fanned out across the pillow. This was what he missed most—the luxury of awakening in each other’s arms, the intimate, peaceful moments of the early morning before the world intruded. It was not just the lovemaking he wanted. He wanted it all; to share the same bed until morning, to spend days in close companionship, to watch their son grow, to have more children. She stirred and moved closer. He whispered softly and cuddled her close. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, laying her cheek against the dark mat of his chest, and he touched her temple with soft whisper kisses. She drifted back into slumber, sensing the safe watch he would keep over her. He tried to sleep, but as his senses stirred, the familiar ache started in his loins. He controlled himself for over an hour; then, just as he could stand it no longer, he looked down at her still face. It was sweet torture, but he couldn’t bear to disturb her. Very gently he arose from the bed and crossed to his own room. He gazed out the windows across the beautiful meadows below him. His heart sang; he could never recall feeling such elation. He heard the household begin to come to life. He slipped on his pants just as he heard a low knock on the outer door. He quickly rumpled the unused bed as a voice said, “Your hot water, sir.”

Patrick called, “Come in, Mr. Burke. Thank you. I hope you haven’t been kept waiting; I overslept this morning.” Patrick scrutinized his demeanor and was satisfied that the man didn’t suspect a thing. “Terrance probably is wondering where I’ve gotten to. Tell him I’ll be down directly.”

“No need to rush, sir; Master Terrance hasn’t gone downstairs yet.”

“Really?” asked Patrick, surprised.

The servant closed the door, and Patrick turned to the mirror to shave. He was momentarily dismayed to see the tiny crescent bruises that ran across his chest to his shoulder. The teeth marks had been clearly visible to Mr. Burke. Patrick grinned shamelessly. How did the fellow keep a straight face? he wondered.

He went back to Kitty’s room and sat on the edge of the bed. She stretched luxuriously and lifted her arms around his neck. “Mmmm, you’re already bathed and shaved.”

“I should hope so; it’s after ten,” he said and smiled. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, trying to find words to convey their pleasure.

“When you came through that door last night, you looked like a stallion who would trample anything in his way.”

Patrick was entranced with her. “Your cries of delight while having your pleasure last night must have awakened the household. I hope Terry’s room isn’t too close to this one,” he said and laughed.

She giggled. “No, he’s in the west wing.”

“Good. I’ll just go over there and drag him out of bed. Do you realize he isn’t up yet?”

It took a minute before his intention was clear to her, but by then Patrick was already through the doorway. She jumped from the bed and threw on his robe.

“No, wait, Patrick don’t!” she cried.

She followed his quick strides down the hallway and across the landing.

Patrick threw open the chamber door and stopped dead on the threshold. The startled young couple sat up in bed, their nakedness forgotten. A stool crashed savagely into the far wall as Patrick exploded, “What in Christ’s name is going
on here?” His face was murderous. “You dare to use my sister for your whore?” he thundered.

Terrance shot naked from the bed. “You dared use mine!”

The words incensed Patrick to an even greater rage, while Kitty stood helplessly behind him. “You young bastard, I’ll kill you,” spat Patrick.

Terrance was just as angry. “Don’t you think I’ve begged her over and over to marry me? But because of you, you bloody tyrant, she refuses. She’s afraid of you; everyone’s afraid of you!” shouted Terry.

“By Christ, you don’t seem to be!” Patrick blazed.

“I won’t see our whole lives ruined by our being kept apart!” shouted Terry.

“Your whole lives?” sneered Patrick. “My heart bleeds for you! How old are the pair of you? Nineteen? Twenty? I’m past thirty. My life should be settled, but I’m denied a wife, I’m denied the pleasure of watching my own son grow up. The pair of you make me sick!” He turned from the naked couple, struggling with his anger. His eyes swept over Kitty. “Cover yourself,” he demanded savagely, as he stalked from the room.

Barbara pleaded, “Kitty, go after him.”

“Are you insane? He’s trying to control a black rage. I wouldn’t dare to go near him.”

Barbara reached with trembling fingers for her nightgown. “I must have been blind not to know Charles Patrick was my brother’s child. I’m sorry, Kitty.”

“We’ve all made a mess of things,” said Terry ruefully, his anger dissolving.

Patrick was gone most of the day. At teatime Kitty bade Barbara eat something. “Come, you’ve had nothing all day. Join me now, for I certainly don’t intend for the four of us to dine together this evening.”

“Patrick’s back. He and Terry have had their heads together, but Patrick didn’t even have a look for me,” said Barbara.

“Naturally! Women must be punished. We must be kept in our place for fear we might invade the men’s territory. So he’ll ignore you, but by God he won’t ignore me! Now eat up and then make yourself scarce. Men are very prickly where their sisters are concerned. The state of their own morals has absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Patrick dined alone. The thought of a conspiracy which perhaps Kitty had authored still rankled, but the thought of her hiding in her room annoyed him. He wasted no time on brandy and cigars, but went upstairs immediately after dinner. He gave a low knock on her door and entered. She wasn’t there. Perplexed for a moment, he went through to his own chamber. She was in his bed! His lips twitched, but he was silent. He undressed leisurely, taking all the time in the world, but there was no movement from the bed. Finally he got into bed and lay with his hands clasped behind his head. After all this time he knew she never would make the first move. “You are the most provoking wench! You crawl into my bed so I can’t ignore you, then do your damndest to ignore me. Feigning sleep will do you no good whatsoever, kitten.” In a flash he lifted her on top of him. Her eyes shot open and she tried to roll away but he held her firmly pressed against the length of him. His hands slipped up the backs of her legs under her nightgown. When they reached her hips, he clamped her firmly to him, ensuring any wriggling on her part would only bring added pleasure.